Murder At Shady Pines
by Red Witch
Summary: The Figgis Agency is called in to solve a murder at a rest home.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has disappeared somewhere again. Even this idea isn't a hundred percent mine. It's Star Saber 21's. I just happened to run with it. So, sit back, relax and enjoy…**

 **Murder At Shady Pines**

"Cyril did the client say what this emergency was?" Lana asked as Krieger drove the Rush Van to their destination. The remaining members of the Figgis Agency were in the van as well.

"Dr. Grover wouldn't say over the phone," Cyril said. "But we were to come right away. He found one of Pam's fliers on his car windshield the other day and…"

"Jesus Pam," Ray groaned. "You really threw those fliers everywhere."

"Hey I don't see **you** getting us any work," Pam pointed out.

"At least **it is** work," Mallory grumbled. "Even if it does take me away from Sterling's bedside."

"Mallory, you didn't have to come to this," Cyril said. "You could have stayed with Archer."

"Oh yes I **did!** " Mallory snapped. "I can't trust you idiots to flush a dead goldfish correctly! Much less handle a case!"

"Okay in the first place the incident with Goldie was a long time ago!" Pam spoke up. "And secondly that was Krieger's fault!"

"What?" Krieger asked.

"You're the one who made that stupid mutant goldfish," Ray told him.

"Not to mention you didn't know that it was **still alive,"** Cheryl added.

"I didn't mean what like **that…** " Krieger covered.

"Or **did** you?" Cheryl asked. "If you're not the original Krieger…"

"Is there really a difference?" Mallory sighed. "Because clone or not I can't really find one."

"It took them four hours to find and remove Goldie from Agent Flanders' ass," Ray groaned. "Why the hell would a fish swim up a man's ass?"

"You of **all people** are asking that question?" Lana quipped.

"Point taken," Ray shrugged.

"Listen idiots," Mallory snarled. "This is the first **real client** we've had in a long time! There is no way I am letting you morons screw this up! So I am personally going to tag along with you to supervise you. Where the hell are we going anyway?"

"Shady Pines Rest Home," Cyril said. "There's been some kind of scandal that needs to be covered up quickly."

"Like what?" Mallory snapped. "The Case of the Missing False Teeth?"

"Mallory…" Lana sighed.

"The Mystery of the Purloined Purse?" Mallory went on. "The Case of the Wayward Walker?"

"You of all people shouldn't be making old jokes!" Ray snapped.

"Since you practically have one foot in the grave," Cheryl added.

"What do you mean by that crack?" Mallory snapped.

"We mean **you're old!"** Cheryl snapped. "What have you gotten deaf already?"

"Why you little…" Mallory snarled.

"WILL YOU PEOPLE PLEASE SHUT UP AND PRETEND TO BE A PROFESSIONAL AGENCY?" Cyril shouted.

"For how long?" Ray sighed.

"At least until the case is over," Cyril sighed.

"I make no promises," Pam said.

"Oh yeah," Lana rolled her eyes. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Shortly after…

"Everything has gone wrong today," Dr. Grover, a man who looked like a young Alan Alda sighed. "First of all, my foursome for golf this afternoon canceled. Then I lost my tee time before I could get a replacement."

"Oh really?" Mallory mocked. "Did Bert and Ernie get into a fight with Big Bird?"

"Can it Mallory the Grouch!" Cyril snapped. "Ignore her."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Dr. Grover waved. "I'm used to it. You should hear some of the things the residents here say to me all the time. Anyway, it's one of the residents that's the problem. He died."

"Isn't that **normal** in a retirement home?" Lana asked skeptically as they stood before a locked door.

"Not like **this,** " Dr. Grover unlocked the door and opened it. "See for yourself."

Inside the tastefully decorated room was an elderly man in a bathrobe and pajamas sitting in a chair. With a harpoon straight through this heart. And the chair. "Oh my God!" Lana gasped.

Cyril screamed like a little girl. Ray looked at Mallory. "And you call **me** feminine?"

"Admittedly in this department you are He-Man by comparison," Mallory groaned. "Cyril get a grip! This isn't the first time you saw a bloody corpse!"

" _First time?"_ Pam snorted. "Hell, it's practically a regular event with us!"

"It does seem like somebody dies a horrible death at least once a week, doesn't it?" Ray remarked.

"Wow I think this old guy was murdered," Cheryl blinked.

"You think, Miss Marple?" Ray snapped.

"Okay I may not be a licensed medical doctor," Krieger said. "But that doesn't look normal to me."

"I **am** a licensed medical doctor," Dr. Grover told him. "And it's not."

"Why didn't you call **the police**?" Lana asked Dr. Grover.

"We did," Dr. Grover sighed. "They're too busy. To be fair we do have a lot of deaths around here."

An elderly man shuffled by and happened to look in the doorway. He gasped and fell down dead from shock.

"See?" Dr. Grover sighed. "At least six to twelve times a week. But as we **tried** to tell the police…None of them like **this** …Then again Mrs. Elery does call every week telling them someone died in a strange and bizarre way."

"Like the boy who cried wolf," Cyril said.

"In this case more like the woman who reads too many murder mysteries," Dr. Grover shrugged. "Guess they must have figured this was one of her weird fantasies."

"Why do you let a patient like that have her own phone?" Mallory sniffed in distain.

"Oh Mrs. Elery isn't a patient," Dr. Grover told her. "She's on our Board of Directors."

"As if the health care crisis in this country didn't worry me enough," Lana groaned.

"I think who really should be worried about is Ms. Archer," Cheryl laughed. "You know? Because she's so old!"

"I'm not…" Mallory bristled. " **That** old!"

"Who are you kidding?" Ray snorted.

"I was going to suggest some pamphlets to you," Dr. Grover said to Cyril. "For…You know?" He pointed at Mallory.

"WHAT?" Mallory snarled.

"Not a good time, Doctor," Cyril groaned. "Shouldn't you uh…?" He pointed to the dead man outside the door.

"Oh right," Dr. Grover nodded. He went over to the body. Then activated a walkie talkie. "This is Dr. Grover. Mr. Pinkiss has expired in front of Room 227. Please send a recovery team immediately. Time of death…Oh let's say 9 thirty-ish."

"Copy that Doc," A man's voice was heard. "We just have to finish dumping off Mr. Mountbank. And calming down Mrs. Walkowski's nurse. Mrs. Walkowski is fine. But you know…?"

"Oh God!" Dr. Grover groaned. "She screwed **another one** to death? Ugh. I really need to have a talk with that woman."

"Man, when I get old I want to come here," Pam perked up. "Sounds like my kind of place."

"So, here's the thing," Dr. Grover said. "I talked to my bosses and we've decided to keep the whole thing quiet as possible. If you could find out who killed Mr. Abbot before dinner at four PM that would really help us."

"To find out and then cover up a murder of one of your patients," Cyril remarked.

"A lot of rich people stuff their unwanted loved ones here," Dr. Grover shrugged. "And we don't need a scandal so…"

"So maybe we should find out who would have a motive to want Mr. Abbot dead?" Lana sighed. "We should interview some of the other residents who knew him. Hopefully it won't be too upsetting."

"That won't be a problem," Dr. Grover sighed. "Honestly Mr. Abbot's death is kind of a relief. Aside from the whole murder thing that is. He was a troublemaker from Day One. Figures his death is also a problem."

"Really?" Mallory raised an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't have any problems getting these people to talk," Dr. Grover said. "Half of them have dementia. Just pretend you're their grandchildren and they'll say anything. That's what I do."

"You're in a lot of their wills, aren't you?" Pam sighed.

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to get in one," Dr. Grover shrugged. "Just give 'em some flowers and some hard candy once a week and boom. Speaking of which I need to get a gift for Mrs. Vole today. She thinks I'm her grandson and it's her birthday."

Two orderlies came with a cart and picked up the old man in the hallway. Dr. Grover went with them. "I guess we should start interviewing people," Cyril sighed.

"I don't wanna!" Cheryl pouted. "Ugh. Old people."

"Fine then!" Mallory snapped. "You can stand here and look at the corpse!"

"Okay!" Cheryl brightened.

"You are the weirdest scariest person I have ever met," Ray shuddered.

"I'll be here with Dr. Krieger supervising him as he looks for clues," Mallory sighed. "The rest of you see what you can find."

"Like a stray harpoon gun in someone's closet?" Lana raised an eyebrow.

"Something like that, yes," Mallory groaned. "Go!"

"Where the hell would someone in a rest home find a harpoon anyway?" Lana asked as she went out with Ray, Cyril and Pam.

"Wow you really can get anything online nowadays," Pam remarked. "It kind of looks like the harpoons you used to shoot from your old harpoon gun, Lana."

"Who would kill a man with a harpoon?" Cyril asked.

"Whalers," Pam said. "Harpoon enthusiasts."

"That's a **thing?** " Ray asked.

"Actually, it is," Lana sighed. "I used to get Harpoon Enthusiast Magazine before it folded. Ironically the publishing company was taken over by Greenpeace."

"Maybe the Yakuza killed him?" Pam asked.

"With a _harpoon?_ " Ray asked. "Why would the Yakuza kill someone with a harpoon?"

"Maybe their swords were at the cleaners?" Pam snapped. "How should I know?"

"The Yakuza use **guns** , remember?" Lana snapped. "Like almost everybody else in the world!"

"Oh right," Pam realized. "I forgot."

"How can you forget?" Ray asked. "When you were involved in at least two shootouts with the Yakuza?"

"Or three or four," Pam shrugged. Everyone looked at her. "Maybe five? There were some pretty wild races I did. And some bitching after parties."

"I **don't** want to know," Cyril groaned. "I so don't want to know."

"What we need to know is who would be crazy enough to kill a man using a harpoon," Ray pointed out.

"How about vampires?" Pam suggested.

"They're usually the ones who **get harpooned** ," Cyril told her. "With wooden stakes!"

"Oh right," Pam realized. "Maybe this guy used to be a vampire hunter? And some vampire came here for revenge."

"I hardly think this guy was some kind of Slayer," Cyril told her.

"Well I didn't say that," Pam said. "Watcher's Council maybe. But not a slayer, no."

"Why do we always end up having an argument about **vampires?** " Lana groaned. "How did this get to be **a thing** with us?"

"Oh! Maybe Ms. Archer killed him because he's Mr. Archer's real father?" Pam guessed.

"What?" Ray looked at her.

"It's possible!" Pam said. "Ms. Archer really gets around."

"Even she can't get around **that much**!" Cyril snapped. "Can she?"

"Honestly, I wouldn't put **anything** past that woman," Ray groaned. "But why would she kill this guy?"

"Why would she kill the Italian Prime Minister?" Pam asked. "It's Ms. Archer. You said someone would be crazy to kill a guy with a harpoon and she's certainly crazy enough. Plus, she kind of is responsible half the time for all the crimes we get involved in so…"

"Well I'm pretty sure she didn't kill **this one** ," Lana snapped. "Let's ask around and find out who did!"

Thirty minutes later back at the room…

"That was fast," Mallory remarked as the others returned. Krieger was taking pictures of the dead body while Cheryl was watching with interest.

"The Doc was right," Pam said. "They do like to talk around here. As well as a lot of other things."

"Boy they really get hyper over penuckle games, don't they?" Cyril asked.

"Another guy had a heart attack over losing a game," Pam told the others. "And he wasn't even a resident! He was a **doctor!** A twenty-five-year-old doctor had a heart attack and died right there! Boy did all those old people laugh."

"Well he was over four hundred pounds and eating a meatball sandwich at the time so…" Cyril shrugged.

"So, did you get anything?" Mallory asked.

"I made fifty dollars," Ray quipped. "From my three new nanas."

"I only made thirty," Cyril admitted.

"Fifty-five!" Pam grinned.

"I got a dollar," Lana frowned. "And I suspect a few racial slurs."

"You **suspect**?" Ray looked at her.

"A few of them mumbled and didn't have teeth," Lana shrugged. "It was hard to understand them. But I got the gist of it."

"Racism is a universal language," Ray shrugged.

"So is sexism," Lana groaned. "I got slapped on the behind by a few residents."

"Me too!" Pam grinned.

"And not all of them were men," Lana groaned.

"Me too!" Pam said happily. "I bet some of them are still great in the sack."

"Ewww…" Cheryl winced. "I'm so glad I stayed here with the old gross dead guy."

"Seriously," Pam said. "I gotta get a brochure for this place."

"I can't wait to get out of here," Lana grumbled.

"You totally missed it!" Pam laughed as she looked at Cheryl. "One old lady thought Lana was her ex-husband!"

"Shut up!" Lana snapped.

"You're **kidding?"** Cheryl gasped.

"It was funny," Ray snickered. "She called her Murray."

"Apparently Murray was some kind of cross dresser," Pam snickered. "And Lana totally had to pretend…"

"I said **shut up**!" Lana snapped.

"Wait was Murray black or…?" Krieger asked.

"No, Italian," Cyril said. "She thought Lana just had a tan."

"I could totally see that," Cheryl laughed. "Oh my God!"

"Just **shut up!"** Lana snapped.

"I meant did you find out anything about the **victim?** " Mallory snapped. "We already knew Lana can pass for a transvestite!"

"WHAT?" Lana snapped.

"Ha, ha…" Cyril snickered.

"Dude," Pam snorted. "You dated Lana so…"

"Oh," Cyril winced.

"Burn!" Ray snickered.

"If you _don't mind_?" Mallory was getting fed up. "Tell me what you found out about the victim!"

"Apparently Mr. Abbot was anything but a monk," Ray quipped. "He's been boning every woman he can get his hands on since he got here last year."

"And a lot of women don't like to share," Lana said.

"And a lot of men weren't happy he was poaching on their turf," Pam added. "Seriously the old vagina to old dick ratio is unreal around here. Now that Abbot's gone the sixteen or so guys here can have their pick among the hundred or so old broads here."

"Fifteen now that Mr. Pinkiss is dead too," Ray quipped. "And Mr. Mountbank."

"So, there were a lot of people who had a motive," Mallory sighed. "Krieger what did you find out?"

"Oh, I was supposed to find something?" Krieger blinked.

"What the hell have you been doing these past thirty minutes?" Mallory snapped.

"Taking pictures for my scrapbook," Krieger told her. "What? I like scrapbooking!"

"I really need to meet new people," Ray groaned.

"Me too," Cyril agreed.

"You were watching him!" Lana snapped at Mallory. "How could you **not** know?"

"I was on the phone for a bit okay?" Mallory snapped. "Is that allowed Inspector Lana Javert?"

"She was having another stupid fight with Ron," Cheryl sighed in a bored tone. "About how to use the coffee machine again. Bor-ing!"

"Shut up!" Mallory snapped.

"I feel we're getting off track again," Lana sighed. "Look we know Mr. Abbot had enemies here with motive to kill him."

"And judging by the dried-up blood splatter someone killed him last night," Krieger added. "As a blood enthusiast, I know that."

"Someone who hated him enough to use a harpoon," Cyril said. "And had to be strong enough to use one."

"No, a lot of handheld harpoon guns are lightweight," Lana told him. "Mine used to be."

Ray remarked. "You know that looks a lot like Lana's old harpoon."

"I **said** that!" Pam spoke up. "I told you Lana! That's exactly like what your old harpoon gun used to shoot!"

"Maybe it was her harpoon gun?" Cheryl snickered.

Lana shook her head. "It can't be. I left that back in New York."

Krieger looked at her. "No, you didn't. Ms. Archer told me to have it mailed to LA."

Lana whipped around to look at Mallory. "What?"

Mallory waved. "Oh, relax Lana! It's not like I didn't wipe your fingerprints clean before I...Oh. Uh oh."

"MALLORY/MS. ARCHER!" Everyone shouted.

"I don't freaking **believe this!"** Cyril moaned.

"I **knew** it!" Pam snapped. "Did I call it or **what?"**

Ray threw up his hands. "This the Italian Prime Minister all over again!"

"I called it!" Pam said. "You all heard me! Lana said she didn't do it but I said she did."

"You called it," Ray admitted. "Boy did you **call it!"**

Cyril glared at Mallory. "You get around more than the Post Office, don't you?"

"Well this is rather awkward," Mallory groaned.

Lana looked at Mallory. "Why…?"

"Because there's no such thing as a harpoon gun registry," Mallory told her.

"I wasn't going to ask **that!** " Lana snapped. "At least that wasn't **my first question**. Why did you kill him? It can't be because you once dated this guy and he cheated on you!"

Cheryl laughed. "Yeah that happens to you **all the time**!"

"And how many of **those guys** die?" Pam gave her a look.

"Oooohhhh," Cheryl realized.

"That wasn't the reason," Mallory waved. "Let's just say I had a score to settle and leave it at that."

Cyril looked at her. "How many scores to settle do you **have?"**

Mallory shrugged. "Scores. Literally. Ironic. I know."

"You have scores of scores to settle," Cyril said. "So basically, we're to expect some kind of serial killer thing…?"

"Serial killer?"

They turned around and saw an older woman in a pink dress and shawl at the doorway. "Are you saying a _serial killer_ killed Mr. Abbot?" She asked.

"That seems to be the diagnosis," Cyril glared at Mallory.

"Good!" The older woman snapped. "Serves the bastard right!"

"You slept with him, didn't you?" Pam groaned.

"Then he slept with my roommate!" The older woman snapped. "And her sister."

"Called it," Pam said triumphantly.

"Inspector Clue-Less-So strikes again," Mallory groaned.

"Sorry for your loss Mrs...?" Lana sighed.

"Brisby," The older woman said. "Can I take a peek? I want to see that bastard one more time!"

"Well I…" Cyril began when Mrs. Brisby stormed in. "Sure, come right in and look at an actual crime scene."

"Yeah that's Andrew all right," Mrs. Brisby looked in triumph. "How fitting. He died by a spear when he used **his** all over town!"

"Technically that's a harpoon but…" Lana sighed. "The analogy does apply."

"I'd love to meet the person who killed him!" Mrs. Brisby bristled.

"You're in luck," Pam quipped. Mallory glared at her.

"I know this might be unsettling to you…" Cyril winced at the sight of a dead body.

"Oh honey I used to work as a nurse in an emergency room for twenty years," Mrs. Brisby waved. "This is nothing. If anything, this isn't bloody enough for my tastes! Especially after how he treated me!"

"Really?" Mallory raised an eyebrow.

"And worst of all he wasn't even that good in bed," Mrs. Brisby snorted.

"Testify," Mallory nodded. Everyone else glared at her. "I mean…Testify on how bad he was, Sister. Because I have **no idea** about this man. Noooope."

"Andrew, you were a selfish stingy bastard who only cared about yourself!" Mrs. Brisby fumed. "You were sexist hypocrite! I'm glad you're dead! I only wish you died a more horrible death!"

"Exactly!" Mallory snapped. Everyone else looked at her again. "Is how **you** should feel! Amen!"

"I think this is one of the happiest moments of my life seeing you dead!" Mrs. Brisby snarled. "So I am going to do what I've been dreaming of doing for weeks! Standing over your bloated corpse and **laugh**! LAUGH! HA HA HA HA HA! HA! URK!"

She gasped and then fell down onto the floor. "Oh my God!" Lana bent down to help her. "Mrs. Brisby are you okay? Mrs. Brisby? Mrs. Brisby?"

"Should we get a doctor?" Cyril asked in a worried tone.

"I think there's still a few in the penuckle tournament room," Pam said.

"Don't bother," Lana groaned. "She's dead."

"Shame, I actually liked her," Mallory sighed.

"Me too," Ray admitted.

"Yeah that's a stiffy," Krieger looked her over. "And Mrs. Brisby's dead too. Bada-bing!"

"Ewww…" Lana winced as she stepped away from both Krieger and Mrs. Brisby.

"So have to get better friends," Cyril groaned.

"Me too," Ray admitted.

"She died laughing," Pam was stunned. "I thought that was just an expression but she literally died laughing!"

"Is that why you don't laugh much?" Cheryl asked Mallory. "Because you're afraid it will kill you?"

"Well nothing has so far so…" Mallory shrugged.

"Wow they really do drop like flies around here," Krieger blinked. "Guys I should get a job at Shady Pines."

"NO!" Everyone else shouted.

"But think of the opportunities!" Krieger protested as he stood up.

"Interesting choice of words," Mallory looked at the dead woman. "Because one just literally landed in our laps."

"What are you scheming **now**?" Lana groaned. "Oh no…You're not going to suggest what I **think** you're going to suggest are you?"

"If you don't," Ray sighed. "You haven't been paying attention all these years."

"It's easy," Mallory said. "All we have to do is put her fingerprints on the harpoon. Then tell everyone that she confessed before she died. Simple."

"You're going to frame an innocent woman for **your crime**?" Lana gasped.

"Oh for god's sake Lana," Mallory rolled her eyes. "She's dead! It's not like she's going to get the chair!"

"Actually, they don't do the chair in California," Cyril told them. "Or almost anywhere else now for that matter."

"Yeah, they give 'em the ol' Needle Nap," Krieger nodded.

"Good to know if we ever get arrested for treason again," Cyril groaned. He glared at Mallory. "Or any **other crimes!"**

"It's not like we have that many other options, Lana," Ray sighed.

"Oh God…" Lana groaned. "Mallory, I am getting so sick of covering up **your murders!"**

"Fine Lana," Mallory snapped. "Next time I kill someone I'll leave you out of it."

"That's all I ask," Lana sighed. "And my damn harpoon gun back!"

"Fine! Now that that's settled. Krieger…" Mallory said.

"I'm on it…" Krieger went to work.

Later at the Figgis Agency…

"So, to recap…" Cyril sighed as the gang held a meeting in the bullpen. "We got twenty-five thousand dollars…To solve a murder that one of us committed."

"And we covered it up by framing a dead old lady," Cheryl added. "Win-win."

"When the cops finally did arrive, they agreed with my findings," Krieger grinned.

"You mean they believed your **lie** ," Ray gave him a look. "About discovering the prints of the murder victim on the harpoon. Which you put on just before they arrived."

"Potato, po-frame-o," Krieger waved.

"See?" Mallory casually sipped her glass of scotch. "It all worked out perfectly!"

"Well except for Mr. Abbot," Pam said. "Who's dead. And Mrs. Brisby. Who now has a reputation for being a murderess."

"Oh please," Mallory waved. "If anything Mrs. Brisby's reputation will go up a few notches. Did you see how all those women and nurses cheered when they finally wheeled Abbot's carcass out of the retirement home?"

"I heard one of them is planning a special send off for Mrs. Brisby," Ray added. "Like a thank you party."

"There you go," Mallory shrugged. "All's well that ends well."

"So why did you kill him?" Lana sighed. "You might as well tell us."

Mallory paused and sighed. "Well we did have an affair briefly during a mission when I worked at the CIA. Then he screwed me in a not so fun way."

"What did he do?" Lana asked.

"He found out that I had a child out of wedlock and blabbed it to my bosses!" Mallory admitted.

"So he's out of the running for Archer's Dad?" Pam asked.

"Of course, he is!" Mallory snapped. "I didn't even **know** him until he arrived at the CIA almost seven months **after** I gave birth to Sterling! And he decided to take my place! Because you know? He was a man and I was just a woman doing all the **work**!"

"What happened?" Lana asked.

"My bosses found out that I was an unmarried woman with a bastard child!" Mallory shouted. "What do you **think** happened?"

"They fired you for **that**?" Lana gasped.

"Of course they did Lana!" Mallory groaned. "The CIA back then wasn't the freethinking liberal agency mine was!"

"You think your old agency was…?" Pam did a double take. "Wow…"

"They also made up some phony charges about how I was embezzling money and sleeping with my co-workers…" Mallory waved. "And blackmailing them to get to the top."

"But you did do those things," Ray pointed out.

"Nobody cared about **that!"** Mallory shouted. "But you have one kid out of wedlock and out comes the Moral Majority!"

"How did he find out about Archer?" Ray asked.

"He called me fat and I snapped that I had a baby okay?" Mallory shouted. "Long story short I was let go. Fortunately, I had a few other irons in the fire and was able to get work until I made my own agency."

"And Abbot got promoted to your job," Lana realized.

"Nice job solving the case Nancy Drew," Mallory groaned. "Of course, I know for a fact that Abbot impregnated at least three secretaries and one stewardess before I was fired. Typical. Joke's on him. That's as far as he got in the CIA and I was able to move on to make my own agency!"

"An **illegal** agency," Cyril told her.

"Still counts as me being the boss," Mallory shrugged. "While Abbot was stuck in a dead-end job. I had some friends that demoted him to paper pusher for the rest of his career! And a decrease in pension! HA!"

"But you already had your revenge for him firing you…" Pam realized.

"So basically…" Lana realized. "You killed him because you were still mad at him calling you fat?"

Mallory looked at Lana. "And what did **you do** to Conway Stern when he called **you** fat?"

"Point taken," Lana groaned.


End file.
